30 Minutes or Less

This great and easy sandwich could serve you well for breakfast, lunch, or a picnic. Basically, it is scrambled eggs with onions and asparagus. I prefer thin asparagus for this dish, since I recall making it with wild asparagus that I would go and forage every spring with my grandmother. Here in the States, asparagus is farmed abundantly. Wild asparagus is more bitter than the farmed variety, but I love any fresh asparagus. I sometimes use scallions instead of onions, including two-thirds of the green part of the scallion stalks as well.

Everybody can relate to a sausage-and-pepper submarine sandwich being Italian American, since it is served at every street fair in the Northeast. The use of peppers with sausages is not as prevalent in Italy as it is in the Italian American community here, but this is a delicious dish. Imagine turning it into breakfast, especially on a morning when you have a few extra mouths to feed. The recipe is easy to prepare, because the sausage is taken out of its casings and crumbled into the pan, and everything else is added to it. You just scramble it all together; do not worry about making a perfectly round frittata here.

Sausage and broccoli rabe are a marriage destined to last. Often served with pasta, most commonly orecchiette, this recipe is for quick, easy, hearty sandwiches with some greens in them.

The gizmo, a glorified sloppy joe or Italian grinder, is Italian America on a sub roll. This is a great sandwich to make for a picnic or a party. Just make a big pot of the filling and keep piling it on the grilled bread. The filling can be reheated and even frozen—just be sure that it is wrapped tightly, so it won’t get freezer flavor. The one I tasted was made with sausage and beef, but just crumpled sausages would be fine; even chopped turkey fits the bill.

I guess you could call this silky chocolate milk, or luscious liquid chocolate pudding. I remember it as a very special treat when I was a child. It is simple and delicious, and, served with some Italian cookies, it becomes dessert.

It seems that the muffuletta sandwich originated in Sicily, set on what most likely was flatbread sprinkled with sesame seeds. And since the Sicilians were the first mass wave of immigration to the port of New Orleans, it would seem that the soft sesame-seed bread of the muffuletta is an American cousin of the bread of the pane ca’ meusa (spleen sandwich) still sold in Palermo markets today. This meatless rendition of the muffuletta was made on All Souls Day; the one with the cold cuts and salad is served on more festive days.

Salumeria Italiana is the place to go in the North End of Boston to buy Italian specialty foods. The store is small but meticulously furnished with some of the best of Italian imported and domestic products. For nearly five decades, the Martignetti family has upheld the time-honored tradition. It was early on a rainy morning when Tanya and I, camera and notepad in hand, paid a visit to the Salumeria. The workers were beginning to set up the products and sandwich of the day, getting ready for lunch. The resident salumiere, a timid elderly gentleman, repeatedly skirted the lens of our camera, but we did get some really good close-ups of the Salumeria panino of the day. No one was willing to share the recipe, either, so here is my rendition of what we saw and tasted; it is simple and simply delicious. Don’t miss out on visiting Paul Revere’s house, almost around the corner!

Stracciare means “to rip to shreds” in Italian, and, indeed, that is how this soup looks after you’ve stirred some beaten eggs with some grated cheese into a good chicken broth. Once you have a good chicken broth, the rest is easy. Stracciatella is usually served with shredded spinach and beaten egg, but I recall having it with just egg and cheese when spinach was not in season. In the Italy that I grew up in, seasons made a difference, not only in how we dressed, but in what we ate. This is a great restorative soup, served in most Italian families.

In Italy, it is called bruschetta, fett’unta, and by various names in different regions, but the basic concept is that bread, fresh or old, is grilled or toasted and then brushed with olive oil and rubbed with fresh garlic. Toppings are optional, and surely seasonal. In the United States, this Italian custom took on different versions and became garlic bread. Garlic bread was an open loaf of Italian bread brushed with butter or oil and lots of chopped garlic, sprinkled with dry oregano, and grilled or baked. I recall liking the grilled and warm bread from my Italian American restaurant visits, but the garlic was always too much for me. I must say that now, in most restaurants, the grilling and toasting of bread has come full-circle, and bruschetta as well as garlic bread graces the table. Here are three versions of the garlic bread made with the Italian American tradition in mind. Just keep a handle on the garlic.

This is a recipe from the Sardine Factory in Monterey, California. My longtime friends Ted Balestreri and Chef Bert Cutino smoke fresh sardines for this dish, but smoked canned sardines are delicious as well. However, I enjoy regular canned sardines packed in olive oil in this dish as well.

When I ate my way through Baltimore, crabs were to be had in many ways. It was spring, and soft-shells were on every menu, as were crab cakes, crab cocktails, and crab salads. Most of the dishes had some version of tartar sauce, ketchup cocktail sauce, or rémoulade served with them. I got a yearning for a crab salad Italian-style, so, without much ado, here is one that evokes a lobster salad they often make in Sardinia.

This is a great soup to make when you find yourself with leftover baked beans. If you don’t have leftovers, Bush’s canned baked beans work wonderfully.